


laughter lines

by eisquosamo



Series: somewhere only we know [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Best Friends Forever, M/M, Steve and Bucky are kids, They're really adorable, This is where it all begins, mention of past character death, tree house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:14:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3782878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eisquosamo/pseuds/eisquosamo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know this means we’re gonna have to be best friends forever, right? Forever-forever, I mean. Till the end of the line,” Bucky said.</p><p>The first firework ascended into the sky, lighting up the tree house, the carved letters, and Bucky’s dirt-smudged face. Steve smiled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	laughter lines

**_March, 1995_ **

When Joseph Rogers had learned he was having a son, one of the first things he set about doing was building a tree house in the tall, sturdy maple tree in the backyard. Sarah had sat on the porch and watched him fondly, slowly rocking back and forth in the swing, a book always perched on the swell of her growing belly. Joseph was ecstatic, even heading out after a twelve-hour shift at the factory to work on the tree house. He worked on it daily until the sun went down, and then he was at it again the following day. Sarah was sure that it would be a beautiful structure with the amount of time and love her husband was putting into it. Part of her wondered if he’d  _ever_  stop adding onto it.  _“This’ll be the best tree house a boy and his ol’ dad could ever want,”_  he’d tell her with a smile.  _“It’ll be done by the time he’s here, darling, don’t you worry.”_

On July fourth, Sarah brought Steven Grant Rogers into the world. He was small, and absolutely beautiful. He had the biggest, brightest blue eyes, just like his daddy. He was everything she’d ever wanted.

The hardest part, of course, was bringing him home to emptiness and an unfinished tree house in the backyard.

“Daddy died in the factory, right?” Steve asked. He was lying on his stomach on the living room floor, an assortment of crayons and paper scattered around him. His legs, bent upward at the knees, swung idly behind him. Sarah paused in her recollection to glance down at her son, nodding solemnly. “He did, my love. The tree house was going to be his gift for you.”

Steve was quiet for a moment. He turned the green crayon—or was it blue? He had a hard time telling the difference between certain colors—over in his hand. Then, he stood up and moved to stand before his mother in her rocking chair.

“Ma?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Do you miss Daddy?”

Sarah’s eyes traced over her son—his tousled blond hair, the smudge at the end of his freckled nose, his determined, kind blue eyes—and then she smiled. “Yes,” she answered honestly. “But I get to see little pieces of him every day.”

Confusion spread over Steve’s face. “Huh?”

Sarah chuckled. “I see him in  _you_ , my love. You have his eyes, remember? And you’re strong, and brave, just like he was.”

Steve nodded, eyes downcast as he turned his mother’s words over in his head. After a moment, he straightened his posture. He held his head high, his chin jutting out slightly in the determined way she knew all too well. “Ma,” he said firmly. “Someday, I’m going to finish the tree house. I’ll grow big and strong like Daddy was, and I’ll finish it. Then you and I will be able to play in it whenever we want to.” 

Sarah smiled, and reached out to pull her son into her arms, pressing a kiss to the end of his freckled nose. “I know you will, Steven,” she told him. “I believe in you.”

  

* * *

  

 **_May, 1995_**

The house next door had been empty for as long as Steve could remember. He’d never paid it much mind before, except when his baseball accidentally went too far and he had to slip over the fence and into the tall grass to fetch it. He certainly paid mind to it, however, when a moving van pulled into the driveway one morning.

From the front window, Steve and Sarah watched as movers began to haul furniture into the house. Boxes followed, and Sarah took note of one labeled “James’ Baseball Stuff”. Excitedly, Steve turned to his mother. “Ma!” he said, beaming. “Do ya think that means they’ve got a kid?”

Sarah chuckled. “I think it’s possible. Why don’t we wait until everything’s settled? And then we’ll welcome them in, okay?”

Steve nodded, and pressed his face back eagerly against the window. Maybe he’d get lucky and catch a glimpse of this “James” who also loved baseball.

As it turned out, he wouldn’t have long to wait.

The following afternoon, the doorbell of the Rogers home rang. Ecstatic, Steve flung the door open to reveal a little family standing on the stoop. A woman with curly brown hair, a man with a beard, a little girl tucked into his arms, and a brunette boy who was only a couple of inches taller than Steve stood before them. Steve’s heart leaped with excitement, but then he suddenly felt very shy with four gazes upon him.

Luckily, Sarah wasn’t far behind. “Hello,” she said politely. Steve gravitated to her, clutching at her skirt and ducking just slightly behind her legs to peek out and around at their neighbors.

“Hello, we’re your new neighbors!” the woman said with a smile. “I’m Winifred Barnes, and this is my husband, George.” Sarah shook hands with both of them. Winifred gestured to the little girl. “This is Rebecca, and this is James.” The boy, who looked more than a little nervous, himself, ducked his head shyly.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Sarah said with a smile. “I’m Sarah, and this is Steven. Can you say hello, my love?” Steve’s cheeks dusted pink, and he glanced up at them only momentarily before hugging himself back to his mother. “Hullo,” he murmured.

“Won’t you come in?” Sarah asked. “I could make some tea or coffee if you’d like.”

The Barnes family came inside, and as Sarah led them into the kitchen, she reached down to smooth back Steve’s hair. “Steven, why don’t you take James outside and show him your baseball?” Steve’s blush only darkened, and he was about to protest when a voice came from behind him.

“You like baseball, too?” James asked, eyes wide.

Steve swallowed, and nodded. “Yeah… I have one signed by Babe Ruth. It was my dad’s.”

“Cool!” James said excitedly.

Steve slowly relinquished his grip on his mother’s skirt. “Do you wanna see?” he asked as his shyness began to slip away. “Yeah!” the other boy exclaimed, and the two of them darted out into the backyard. Sarah and Winifred watched with fond little smiles on their faces.

Steve scooped his ball up, handing it over to James. The other boy took it very gently, as if he was afraid to damage it somehow. He studied the autograph reverently. “This,” he said, “is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

Steve’s chest puffed out proudly. “I know,” he said. Then, quickly, he added, “Thanks.”

When James smiled, it revealed two missing front teeth. Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa, James, you’re getting your grownup teeth already?” he asked.

James straightened a bit and nodded proudly. “Yep. I mean, I  _am_  eight, so I’m practically a grownup already. Ma says that I’ll have my grownup teeth real soon!”

Steve nodded. James was into baseball,  _and_  he was older. Steve suddenly felt the need to match him. “I’m only six. But I  _am_  named after a President, so. I’m Steven  _Grant_  Rogers.”

James handed the ball back to Steve. “Really? Cool! Me too! I’m James  _Buchanan_  Barnes!”

Steve covered his mouth with a little giggle. “That’s a funny name,” he told him, and James laughed too. “Yeah, I know. I don’t even really like James a lot. So… if you wanna call me Bucky, you can.”

Steve considered this, and then nodded. “Okay. Then you can call me Steve, not Steven.” He held out his hand and Bucky shook it.

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

The sun was going down by the time George stepped outside and called Bucky in to head home. “But  _Dad_ ,” Bucky complained. He and Steve were both slightly pink from running around in the sun all day. “I want to keep playing!”

George knelt down by his son and ruffled his hair fondly. “I know, little man, but it’s time for dinner, and your sister missed her nap today so she needs to go to sleep early. But I’ll make you a deal—if you’re good and come home now, you can come over and play with Steven again tomorrow. Okay?”

Bucky gave a long-suffering sigh and exchanged glances with Steve. “Ooo-kaaaay,” he mumbled. He dropped the baseball glove at the edge of the porch. “See you tomorrow, Stevie.”

Bucky headed inside, and Steve followed behind to see him off. George, however, paused in the yard, glancing up at the unfinished tree house. “Sarah?” he called, and she stepped out into the yard. “Yes?”

George scratched at his beard thoughtfully. “Was this… did Joseph start this?”

Sarah tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Yes. He never got around to finishing it before…”

George nodded in understanding. He was quiet for a moment before he turned to face her, stuffing his hands into his pockets and grinning. “How about I finish it up for you guys?” he asked.

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Oh! You certainly don’t have to, it’s so much work, and—“

“Nonsense!” George said. “We’re friends now, and the boys seem like they’re going to be spending a lot of time together. They could use a tree house like this to play in. I’m going to be doing some renovations on the new house, anyway. I wouldn’t mind. Maybe I could teach them a thing or two while I’m at it. It’s a win-win, really.”

Sarah covered her mouth with one hand, and then her eyes rapidly filled with tears. George smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s a deal, then.”

  

* * *

  

**_June, 1995_**

Steve and Bucky sat together on the back porch swing, watching as George hammered down some wooden planks to the floor of the tree house. The boys sipped absently at juice boxes, bare feet swinging over the edge of the seat. “This is gonna be so cool,” Bucky was saying. “It’ll be like our own secret clubhouse. No girls allowed, especially not Rebecca.” Steve was quiet, simply watching his own feet as they casually moved to and fro. Bucky noticed, and gave his friend a nudge. “Hey, pal, what’s the matter? Aren’t ya excited about the tree house?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, plucking at a stray bit of plastic on his juice box. “I just wish  _my_ dad could’ve finished it, ya know? Or that I could help build it.”

“You  _can,_ ” came George’s voice, and both boys looked up. He smiled. “Don’t worry, Steve. I’m just fixing up what your dad already made so nice. And once I get the floor all settled in, you boys can help me with the door and the paint.”

Steve’s countenance brightened considerably. “Really?” he asked, and George nodded, wiping a bit of perspiration off of his forehead with his sleeve. “Really.”

Steve grinned, and went back to sipping at his juice. When Bucky nudged him this time, he nudged right back.

 

* * *

  

**_July, 1995_**

“Happy birthday, Stevie,” Bucky was saying. The sun was beginning to set. The two boys were holed up in their newly finished tree house. Soon, once the sky was dark enough, the Independence Day fireworks would start. Their little club house was the perfect vantage point, offering a view that stretched much further than either of them had imagined.

“This is great, huh? The paint looks real nice, and we have enough room for sleeping bags and snacks and toys and everything! And you know these fireworks are just for you, right? Here I was always thinkin’ that they were for the United States, but really they’re for your birthday! Huh! What do you think, Stevie?”

Steve ran his hands gently over one of the wooden planks, painted a deep shade of blue by himself and Bucky. They’d done all the painting themselves.  Steve, with his affinity for art, had insisted on it. “I think this is the best birthday ever,” he said.

Bucky fished around in his overnight bag for a moment, and then withdrew a small, silver pocket knife. Steve sat up a little straighter. “Whoa! Where’d you get  _that_?” he asked incredulously. Bucky smiled. “My dad gave it to me. But we have to be real,  _real_  careful with it, or else I don’t get to have it until I’m older.”

Steve nodded, watching as Bucky carefully pulled out the blade to show it to his friend. “Let’s carve our names,” he found himself saying. “Here, in the tree house.”

Bucky tilted his head curiously. “Really? Are you sure?” he asked, but Steve was already standing.

“Here,” he said, pointing at a spot next to the window. “Right here. You go first.”

Bucky looked unsure, but he joined Steve. Carefully, he pressed the edge of the knife into the wood. After a few minutes, a scraggly  _BUCKY_  was carved into the freshly-painted wood. It was pure luck, really, that Bucky didn’t accidentally knick himself. The blade was sharp, but he handled it carefully. Steve figured that he was trying really hard to prove to his dad that he could be responsible.

Steve took the knife, just as carefully, and underneath it, scratched out  _STEVE_.

The two boys stepped back to admire their work, both grinning ear to ear. “You know this means we’re gonna have to be best friends forever, right?  _Forever-_ forever, I mean. Till the end of the line,” Bucky said.

The first firework ascended into the sky, lighting up the tree house, the carved letters, and Bucky’s dirt-smudged face. Steve smiled.

“Yeah. Till the end of the line.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part in the series! The next one will hopefully be up soon if you guys like it. :) I'm thinking the boys are going to be around 10 and 11, respectively. Maybe we'll get to meet a few more of their friends, too. I have at least 5-7 more parts already planned out... maybe more if this is received well. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


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